


Comfort

by jeweldancer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Panic, Panic Attacks, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweldancer/pseuds/jeweldancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's girlfriend is having a severe panic attack, but he has learned over the time they've been together how to help her get through them. He and Sam comfort her until the attack passes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

Dean jolted awake; someone was watching him from the darkness. He quickly scanned the room for intruders before he glanced at the other side of the bed and saw her brown eyes fixed on him.

Relief flooded him at first, as he smiled at her and relaxed back onto the bed. Close up, though, he saw that her eyes were haunted and pleading. Dean was intimately familiar with the looks she gave him when they were lying together in their bed: a smile so heartfelt that her eyes crinkled in the most adorable way. Loving concern when he was sick or hurt or shaking off the nightmares. That dark-eyed, wanting look she had right before he made love with her. 

This look was none of those, and his chest had a keen little ache because he hadn't seen it in a little while. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" Dean whispered.

She shook her head no, almost imperceptibly.

"Are you sick?"

Another no. The ache spread a little further throughout his chest. "It's okay, angel. I understand."

Dean reached for her and pulled her up against him, as close as he possibly could. One of his hands cradled the back of her head, his fingers stroking the soft curls at the nape of her neck. His other arm gripped her tightly. They were so close together that they seemed to be one body instead of two. Dean rubbed little circles on her back, and she clung to him. 

When they were first together, he hadn't known what to do when she was like this. 

He'd always thought of panic attacks as being something noisy and frantic. He hadn't known that they could occur in perfect silence, leaving someone unable to even speak. During the first one he'd witnessed, he'd shouted at her in terror, not knowing what was going on or why she wouldn't respond. Sam had burst into their bedroom, weapon drawn.

Once Sam had figured out that no one was in physical danger, he'd joined Dean in trying to comfort her. "I think she's having some kind of panic attack," he'd said. Sam had talked to her calmly and smoothed her hair. She'd grabbed Sam's hand and held on as if it were a lifeline. "Hold her other hand, Dean," Sam had instructed. 

When she was able to talk to them again, she'd apologized repeatedly for the trouble she'd caused. Dean had reminded her of all the times she'd soothed him through the aftermath of nightmares. "You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart."

"You're family, and we'll take care of you no matter what happens," Sam told her. She had been reluctant to let go of either of them, and they all ended up sleeping in the same bed, Dean and Sam on either side of her. 

Sam, as was his way, had researched the subject the next day, and found that the correct way to respond to a panic attack depended on the individual. He encouraged Dean to talk to her about what she preferred, and how they could help her when it happened. 

Through much discussion and experimentation, Dean had discovered that she liked to be held tightly in his arms, and that she liked for him to talk to her, softly and gently. He always told her that she was going to be all right, and that he loved her very much; and he always called her by the sweet nicknames that she liked. Babe, sweetheart, honey. 

"Is this okay, baby?" She nodded this time. "Okay. Let me know if there's anything else you need, though."

She was so tense, and Dean made it his mission to relax her. He massaged her back gently, and kissed her forehead. "Shh, sweetheart. Shh. I've got you, okay? I won't let go."

He felt her slowly start to relax, degree by infinitesimal degree. "That's it. That's my girl. Just hang on for a little bit and it'll pass. I'm right here." Dean felt a dampness on the front of his shirt. Oh, God. Seeing her cry almost broke him, every single time. He placed his hand gently under her chin and tipped her face up towards his. He started kissing her tears away, tasting the salt between his lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed as she sank further into him. "There you go, baby. That's good. Let it go." He rocked her back and forth and hummed. Sometimes he sang to her. Dean was a terrible singer, but his singing calmed her when nothing else would. 

Once he had sung her part of Bohemian Rhapsody, just because his mind had blanked and he couldn't think of any other songs. About an hour later, when she was mostly recovered, she had suddenly started giggling. "Did you seriously sing me fucking Bohemian Rhapsody?" The giggles progressed to hysterical laughter, and she finally cupped his face in her hands and proclaimed, "I knew there was a reason I love you."

Tonight one of her favorites popped into his head, and he went with it. "St Ides Heaven" was also an unconventional lullaby, but she loved it. She always said it was her favorite Elliott Smith song. "Everything is exactly right, when I walk around here drunk every night..." Dean sang softly.

She nestled into his chest and sighed deeply. She whispered something, over and over. She did that sometimes, saying things like "Stop" or "Go away" to her own thoughts. Dean leaned in a little closer to hear her. "I love you," she was whispering. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Dean kissed her hair. "I love you too, sweet girl. Are you feeling better?"

Her voice was rough and low from crying. "Yeah. I'm gonna be all right. I'll be good in a few."

"I'm gonna get you something to drink, okay? Your throat sounds dry."

She clutched him harder. "No. Stay. Don't leave me yet."

"Okay, okay, shh. I'm right here." Dean let go of her with one arm and reached for his phone. "Is okay if Sam brings you something?"

She nodded without hesitation. She trusted Sam completely, second only to Dean. 

Dean tapped out a message with one thumb, his other arm still cradling her. 

You still up?

A reply came quickly.

Yes, in the library. What's up

Having a bad night. Can you bring something to drink? Don't want to leave her

Be right there

Sam must've hauled ass, because he was there almost immediately with a glass of orange juice. He always insisted that something with sugar in it helped her most. Sam sat on the edge of the bed and eased her onto her back. "I have some juice for you, sweetie. Can you drink it?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Sam. You're the best, you know?"

"Shh. You don't have to talk right now." Talking took a lot of her energy, and she needed that to recover. Sam understood these things. He slid an arm under her shoulders and held her while she drank some juice. It took a few minutes for some color to return to her face. 

"I feel okay now, really. Thank you both. So much."

"Hey, sweetheart, hey. We'd do anything for you, you know?" Dean was always consumed by relief when she recovered from an episode. The sight of her distress was physically painful to him. 

She reached up to touch his face. "Same here." She lay back wearily into the pillows. Dean knew she wouldn't sleep for a while, even though she was tired, so that she could hopefully avoid bad dreams. He nestled her in, arranging the covers.

"Hey, angel, we haven't finished all the episodes of Agent Carter yet. You wanna watch one?"

"That's perfect. Yeah."

She made it through half an episode, Dean almost a whole one, and Sam got through an episode and a half before going to sleep.


End file.
